


Summer Days

by joonfired



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellarke, But here you go, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Gen, Hopeful Ending, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Meet-Cute, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, bellarke AU, first and last Bellarke AU, i don't even know why i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-14 06:11:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13583949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joonfired/pseuds/joonfired
Summary: Clarke finds herself attracted to the slightly older Bellamy in a fluffy, meet-cute summer AU





	Summer Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nadiaselite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadiaselite/gifts).



> My first (and only) Bellarke AU

Clarke didn’t like summer.

She hated the heat, the bugs, the crush of people, and, once again, the sticky, stifling, inescapable heat. Winter was her season, full of beanies and mocha cappuccinos and crisp, invigorating cold.

But, since there was currently a party at her house – something involving her stepdad Marcus’ law firm, which meant lots of suits and handshaking and long, annoying words of law and order – Clarke left the air-conditioned comfort of her room and went for a walk, her trusty sketchpad tucked into the scuffed leather satchel over her shoulder.

 _One more year and then I’ll be off to Europe for art schools and cool air_ , Clarke thought as she took a deep, choking breath of the muggy Florida air. _Or somewhere more realistic, like Boston or New York. Anywhere but here._

At the ice cream parlor a few blocks from the swanky new house Clarke and her mom had moved into a few years ago when her mom married Marcus, she sat at one of the metal-topped, swiveling bar stools. The cool metal felt like heaven against the skin of her legs, and Clarke thought just how much trouble she would get into if she took off her clothes and hid in the walk-in freezer a place like this must have.

There was a group of teenagers around her age clustered in two of the five booths along the back wall, chatting and laughing and having what looked like a float drinking contest. Their faces looked somewhat familiar to Clarke, which made sense since they were probably from her school, though definitely not from her social circle.

Scratch that. Clarke didn’t have a social circle beyond her friend Wells, and even then they were both usually lost in their sketchbooks.

Clarke ordered a vanilla sundae with extra cherries and fudge sauce, and was thinking again how it would feel if she stood naked in a freezer as she sucked at the sweet residue on her spoon from her recent mouthful, when someone sat down next to her.

“That looks good,” the boy said, his voice slow and deep, with good dose of humor to it.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” Clarke said reflexively, though around the spoon her mouth, so her words came out sounding more like, “Uh, yuh, ih, ih.”

And since she had looked over while she spoke, she suddenly half-regretted her introverted awkwardness. Because, dear Lord, was this boy . . . well, gorgeous was the first word that popped into her head, but Clarke didn’t think one word could suffice to describe the tall, dark-haired boy sitting next to her.

His eyes were the color of dark chocolate and looked as warm as hot fudge. His skin was tanned a nice hearty brown, like just-right toasted marshmallows, with slightly lighter freckles sprinkled over his nose, cheekbones, and dotting the surface of his forearms. He smiled, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a half-sardonic, half-charming expression, and brushed his curly bangs out of his gaze in a completely unconscious way, as if he didn’t know how absolutely attractive Clarke thought that small, innocent gesture was.

“Sorry,” he said, his smile widening so that it pulled up both corners of his mouth now. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s just, you looked lonely and I’m alone, so” – he shrugged, a movement that had Clarke realizing that, _wow_ , his shoulders were really, really nice – “the end.”

She took the sucked-clean spoon out of her mouth and stuck it back into the melting swirl of her sundae. “Thanks, but I’m not lonely. I was thinking.”

_About being naked._

Oh. That was _not_ something to be thinking about right now. Her cheeks flushed, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Dare I ask what you were thinking about?” he said with a quiet laugh.

Clarke shook her head, feeling her blush spreading from her cheeks and down her neck, which was visible thanks to the knot she’d thrown her hair up into before she’d left her house.

“I wouldn’t say it, even if you did ask,” she said, and suddenly the conversation turned from awkward into flirtatious, and she wondered how that had happened so easily.

“Well, that makes me even more curious now,” he replied, and then ordered a vanilla sundae with extra cherries and fudge sauce. “Wow, that _is_ really good.”

Clarke’s head was in a whirl. She didn’t attract the attention of guys like this, much less attract attention at all. It wasn’t that she didn’t like company, she was just usually lost in thought about the craziest things (like nudity in freezers) or working on her latest art project. When they happened, she did like conversations, but since they didn’t happen much except with her parents, she wasn’t sure exactly what to do now.

Plus, she didn’t know this guy. He didn’t look familiar at all, which meant that he was probably on vacation. Which meant that this moment would soon pass and she’d maybe remember the super cute guy from the ice cream parlor for a few years, until he eventually faded.

“Hey, Blake!” one of the kids from the booths called, drawing the attention of the guy next to Clarke. “We’re going to the beach. You in?”

“Want to come?” the guy asked Clarke, swinging his spoon from his fingers like a butterfly knife, flicking and flashing it over his knuckles. “There might be pizza.”

Clarke laughed, shaking her head at the sheer absurdity and casualness of him, like it was perfectly normal to invite strangers to what appeared to be a close-knit party.

“Thanks,” she said, “but I don’t know you, okay? And that’s not an insult, it’s just practicality. I want to think you’re a good guy, but I don’t know. See? So, no. Sorry. And thanks again. But no.”

“Ouch,” Blake said, miming a shot to his heart.

A girl walked up to them, short and slim, her long dark hair done up in intricate braids. Her eyes were as dark and warm as Blake’s, and her nose had the exact same tilt to it which made Clarke think, suddenly, that these two were related.

“It’s Clarke Griffin, right?” the girl said, leaning an elbow on the counter next to Clarke’s half-empty sundae dish.

Clarke nodded.

“We have homeroom together?” the girl further prompted, like they should know each other by this simple fact alone. “You sit in the back with that big black guy, the principal’s kid, yeah? Drawing or some shit, right?”

Clarke blinked. Oh, wait, she _did_ know this girl: Octavia Blake, leader of the local rebels in school and with a file of fist-related pink slips to her name.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she said. “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first. I don’t, um, obviously I don’t hang out with you.”

Octavia shrugged. “Eh, it’s okay. You seem spacey a lot of the time, so it makes sense. No offence, of course, but we do have pretty different circles. Anyways” – she gestured at the guy sitting next to Clarke – “this is my brother, Bellamy. I heard you say that you don’t know him, which is cute and all, but he’s a good guy, all right? So if you want to come with us, relax – it’ll be great.”

“That last bit sounds real shady, O,” Bellamy said to his sister. “Like you’re trying to sell her on drugs, not a beach party.”

Octavia grinned, a sharp, fierce little thing. “Who says they’re different?”

And then with a funny little cackle, she swaggered back to the booth she’d came from.

“Sorry about that,” Bellamy said with the voice of one who had to apologize frequently for his younger sibling. “Octavia can be . . . intense at first, but she’s a good kid. A little weird, but still good.”

“We’re all a little weird in the end,” Clarke said, finishing her sundae.

“So are you going to change that no into a yes, or do you want me gone?” Bellamy asked, flicking his spoon over his fingers again.

Clarke thought about it for a moment, and then thought, _what the hell._

“Okay,” she said, standing up. “Why not.”

 

***

 

The beach party that Bellamy had invited Clarke to consisted of a bonfire on one of their friend’s private beaches, pizza served in boxes lined up on a tailgate of a truck (the same truck that served as a radio, the open windows pumping out classic rock into the evening air), and a cooler of light beer that Bellamy had provided.

When Octavia had thanked her brother for buying the booze, Clarke realized that Bellamy was a good deal older than the rest of the party, which was teenagers around her age. Sure, she was just a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday, but a lot of the time Clarke still felt like a kid . . . who was seriously attracted to an older guy.

Bellamy was quieter than the rest, but he still laughed and joked with anyone who came up to him where he sat cross-legged next to the fire, a beer held lazily in one hand. And while the rest were off running between the ocean and the cooler, he stayed by the fire, just watching the proceeds with that small, quiet smile of his.

Since Clarke wasn’t much of a party person, and was thinking of how weird it was that she had escaped one party only to end up at another, she made her way over to the fire.

“You look like you wish you’d said no,” Bellamy said when she sat down on the log next to him, her satchel bumping awkwardly against her legs.

Clarke winced. “I’m that obvious?”

Bellamy laughed. “Yeah, you are. Sorry.”

She shrugged. “No, it’s fine. It’s just . . . I always end up sitting somewhere in the shadows, because everyone knows everyone else but me. And I’m okay with that, but I know what it looks like to anyone else.”

“I get that,” Bellamy said, nodding. “Honestly, I’m only here for O. She hates it, but I promised our mom that I’d watch over her, and so I do. Even when it might be inconvenient for both of us.”

“Did your mom thinking watching over your sister didn’t include underage drinking?” Clarke asked bluntly because, hell, she doubted she’d see this guy again and because tact had never been her strength.

“C’mon, Clarke,” Bellamy drawled, raising an eyebrow. “If I didn’t buy the beer, they’d figure out another way to get it and stronger stuff, too. This way, they get what they want, which is a little buzz, and I get what I want, which is making sure O doesn’t do something stupid that she’ll regret.”

“Wow, you take your job seriously, huh?”

He nodded, taking a long sip of his beer. “Yeah, I do.” He paused, staring into the fire with the expression that there was more he wasn’t saying, but Clarke didn’t pry. Which meant that, a few minutes later, he said, “We’ve only got each other, Octavia and me. Our mom died two years ago, our dad – well, both of them, ‘cause we’re technically half-siblings – are totally out of the picture, so I dropped out of this military academy my mom had managed to get me a good recommendation into to keep an eye on O until she’s legal.”

“Oh,” Clarke said, at an apologetic loss for words. “Uhm, I’m sorry to hear about your mom . . . and you dropping out . . . uhm . . .” she trailed off awkwardly, glancing away.

“It’s okay,” Bellamy replied, his voice still carrying the easy calm that Clarke wished she could project as effortlessly as he seemed to. “I appreciated the effort my mom went to for my education, but it wouldn’t have been my first choice as a career. Besides, my sister needed me, and she’s always my first priority.”

“That’s . . .”

_Nice. Admirable. Caring._

_Attractive._

_No! Damn it, Clarke, you’ve literally just met this guy and he’s older than you._ She would acknowledge his appeal, but that was it because that was all it could be.

Only when Bellamy cleared his throat in a chuckling kind of sound did Clarke realized that she’d been staring at him, lost in the confusing maze of her thoughts. Well, that was super cliché of her, not to mention _totally_ mature. She blinked, summoning a halfway-decent smile to cover her embarrassment.

“Uh, that’s real, ah, nice of you,” she finally managed.

He shrugged, and for some reason Clarke just couldn’t let this go. It piqued her interest, _he_ piqued her interest, and she’d only read about guys like him, never really heard about them, let alone meet them. It was like finding a rare treasure . . . oh, _nope_ , she was not going there again . . .

“No, I mean it,” she continued, her awkwardness disappearing into the intensity she got when something got stuck in her mind and she just couldn’t. Shut. Up. “It’s something I know not many people would do. You’re a good brother.”

“I guess,” he said, glancing over at where his sister laughed at something by the shoreline, beer bottle raised in a wild salute at the sky. “At least someone thinks so.”

 

***

 

The party ended pretty soon after Clarke’s little talk with Bellamy, as the beer ran out and the group then began to slip off bit by bit back to their homes. When it was just the three of them – Clarke, Bellamy, and Octavia curled up in the backseat of the truck – she checked her phone for the first time since she’d come to the beach.

“Shit,” Clarke muttered, reading the time: almost midnight. She scrambled to her feet, bag swinging against her thighs. “I gotta go.”

Bellamy got to his feet after her, tossing his long-empty bottle into the back of the truck where the cooler was also deposited, leaking water as the ice inside melted. He kicked sand over the smoldering fire, instantly cloaking them in darkness.

“You need a ride?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah, thanks,” Clarke said, reaching up to grip the strap of her bag as they walked up to the cab of the truck.

She didn’t really need it, her house was maybe a mile or so off, but Clarke found herself wanting to stay in Bellamy’s company as long as she possibly could. It wasn’t really his looks that drew her, although that was certainly a bonus, but the heart that shone so brightly behind the cool mask he portrayed to the world. It was the steady, unfailing love he held towards his sister, the protectiveness he showed to her and her friends, and the dry, odd humor she’d discovered in their fireside conversation.

Damn it, she liked him.

 

***

 

Octavia was fast asleep, not even moving from her position stretched out on the narrow seat of the double-cab. Clarke glanced at the girl’s browned limbs and her salt-tangled hair and wondered how even in drunken slumber the younger Blake could look so . . . perfect. She hadn’t even been in the water, hadn’t done anything, and she felt like a mess in her plain shorts and loose T-shirt.

“I guess this means I’m going to have to carry her sleepy ass into her room,” Bellamy noted as he started the truck, following Clarke’s glance.

She laughed quietly at that, her newly-developed, _hopeless_ , crush twinging with endearment. She still was at acquaintance-level with Bellamy, but _oh_ did she love his laugh! It was so . . . rich. And honest.

They were silent on the drive back to her house, minus her soft directions. When he pulled to a stop at the end of the white rock driveway about four hundred yards from her front door, Clarke had the sudden urge to stay with him. Octavia was forgotten as she looked into the warm gaze of the young man across from her and she felt like she had been transported into a movie, right into the moment when the girl took a random chance and kissed the boy.

Yeah, she wouldn’t mind kissing Bellamy. And as her thoughts took that route, Clarke glanced down at his mouth, the shadowed curves inviting among the faint stubble along his jaw. Mmm, yes . . . very kissable.

“They do this pretty much every Friday night,” Bellamy said a moment later. “I’m sure O and her friends wouldn’t mind you tagging along.” A pause. “I know I wouldn’t.”

Trusting the dark, Clarke let a smile dance across her features. Okay, so this tension between them wasn’t one-sided. Interesting . . . and hopeful.

“Okay,” she said, nodding. “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that either.”


End file.
